


We Grew So Little

by JellyDishes



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Disabled Character, Gen, In which Diego Hargreeves humbly requests a do-over, Roleswap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23184952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyDishes/pseuds/JellyDishes
Summary: Whether he knew it or not, Diego Hargreeves’ life was defined in terms best found in a third grade science book, the sort that described collapsing orbits and event horizons with breathless wonder. If you had asked him yesterday, he would have told you that science was best left to the people with brains left over to spend on it, if indeed he spoke at all. In his neighborhood, Diego was known to be a quiet, if awkward man who kept to himself. You could call him shy, if you were kind, and reclusive if you weren’t. The sort of man who freely offered smiles to small children, but fumbled his groceries more often than not.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	We Grew So Little

**Author's Note:**

> This story deals with everyone having swapped powers and backstories. In doing so, I decided that Diego’s original superpower could have been helping compensate for an otherwise unseen disability. He has motor control issues within the context of the story, and uses a speech monitor assistive device for his stutter. These are and will be treated with respect.
> 
> This story is for anyone reading this who never thought someone like us could be a hero. Let’s prove them wrong.

Whether he knew it or not, Diego Hargreeves’ life was defined in terms best found in a third grade science book, the sort that described collapsing orbits and event horizons with breathless wonder. If you had asked him yesterday, he would have told you that science was best left to the people with brains left over to spend on it, if indeed he spoke at all. In his neighborhood, Diego was known to be a quiet, if awkward man who kept to himself. You could call him shy, if you were kind, and reclusive if you weren’t. The sort of man who freely offered smiles to small children, but fumbled his groceries more often than not. 

Diego shuffled inside his apartment on one such perfectly ordinary evening, nudging a large bag of rice inside with his foot. The rest of his bags were precariously balanced on his chest, and rattled down onto his table when he stumbled into the kitchen. He winced as a can rolled out of the bag, and turned his head away with a jerk as it tumbled down to bang onto the floor, followed soon after by the coconut milk. He sucked in a breath through his nose the way his speech therapist had told him, but instead of holding it, it came out in a snarl as he planted the bent knuckles of his fisted hands on the table. 

He didn't know whether he wanted to yell or cry or hit something. Something, anything, to show that he was here, that he existed. 

But he didn't do any of those things. 

Instead, he slowly dropped to one knee and then the other and gathered up his groceries and put them away. Every move he made was slow and careful and deliberate, meant to compensate for how his hands shook. The soft sounds of glass and aluminum clinking against each other as he moved them where he wanted them was almost soothing, quieting the rapid beat of his heart until it was easy to forget that he had ever been upset at all. When that was done, he went to play his violin. 

As soon as he touched it, hands that had been so unsteady and shook so much with his groceries and his keys and his life curved into the correct shapes with an ease he never had in any other area of his life. He played, and the world fell away, at least for a little while. He played, and all of his frustrations didn't matter. If they existed at all in this moment, it was only as an enhancement to the pure, uncomplicated joy that bubbled up in his chest. 

Then the song ended. 

Diego stood, silent and still, in the latticework shadows cast by his window until the notes faded. And then he went to bed. 

He closed his eyes on that perfectly ordinary evening, and opened them to a cool, rainy morning that was not so ordinary at all. He lay in bed for a few moments more, staring up at the smooth, off-white ceiling, and pushed himself up. Before his feet even hit the floor, he was already reaching for his pills and where his speech monitor sat charging on his bedside table. It was a small, inconspicuous device that fit neatly in his ear like a hearing aid, and the tension that had already built up in his shoulders eased as he fit it in. Small as it was, his assistive device helped keep the day’s anxieties at bay. 

Once that was done, he swallowed his pills dry with a toss of his head. The tangled curls of his hair tickled past his cheeks as he sat in that position for another moment, two, before pulling up an ill-fitting smile on his face. He was sure it looked worse in the mirror, but as usual, it was what he had to work with. It faded as he went about getting ready for his first student of the day, lost as his mind drifted to other things. He prepared a mental script for what he would say, and walked himself through harder words aloud in a quiet, almost hushed voice until the results satisfied him. 

Finally Diego gathered himself up, unconsciously puffing up his chest and thrusting out his jaw, and crossed from his bedroom on his way to the door to his apartment. 

On any other day, he wouldn't have paid any attention at all to the tv he'd left on overnight as he passed through, but something caught his eye. Some chance-caught sound or combination of letters emblazoned onscreen was enough to slow his steps to a halt as he stared. His mouth dropped open, and out came a slow, fervent, “Oh, fu-fuck.”


End file.
